


Francisco Tárrega - Capricho Árabe

by ArchieHabian



Series: Kybersong [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchieHabian/pseuds/ArchieHabian
Summary: One can be a good Jedi, and not be a good person, even if they believe that it is the Order which is doing things the wrong way.
Series: Kybersong [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756912
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Anik Vahaan

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a kind of "expansion pack" to the first one of the series - a backstory of the background character which is going to be kinda important later on? Well, it's centered on OCs, and canon characters are somewhere far away in the background, so if this isn't your kind of jazz, you might want to skip it :3

One might say, that Ilum was a frozen desert; a wasteland, cold, desolate place, void of everything, with the only present sound being the embittered howling of the wind, and yet —

For Anik Vahaan Ilum was the most beautiful planet in the whole galaxy. 

A planet, full of light, bright and blinding, it shone even through the fiercest of storms. The snow sparkled under his feet, like shards of kyber — and sometimes he wondered, whether it could have been that, too, because Ilum was in fact just full of —

He heard the kyber crystals sing all around him, their hum constant in his ears, the songs they sang were not meant for him, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hear them. His Force could guide him towards the crystals, showing him the very best ones, the ones which he would then carefully hide inside the Crystal Caves for the Jedi Padawans to find on their quests, because it was really just that — a trial. And he was a keeper of this trial site, his role dictated by the Force. He spent years on Ilum, getting provisions from the Temple every two standart months, and he never wished for another fate. He didn’t feel happy, because there was no emotion, really, on Ilum. Only peace. 

And endless beauty of the frozen, sparkling wastes. 

Sometimes, Master Yoda came to visit; or other Jedi Masters; bringing their Padawans along. He rarely spoke to them, not wanting to disturb their quests, not wanting to interrupt the songs that the crystals sang for them. He didn’t miss interacting with others, not at all; since passing his trials and being assigned here, he found that he was content with no company. His only problem was...

He felt a pull towards Coruscant. 

The planet which he resented, deep inside his heart. It started several years ago, when he found a strangely shaped shard of kyber on the bottom of the lake. It was a silent one, stubbornly refused to sing, and too small to become the heart of a lightsaber. Anik dedicated an evening to making it into a piece of jewelry; a ring, with a crystal trapped on it in a silver cage, shaped like a holocron. 

“Aren’t you a mystery,” he told the crystal, and stared at it for hours, until it changed its color from transparent white to light purple. It wasn’t  _ his  _ color, not even close. 

He had dreams about Coruscant, but he knew that he didn’t really want to go there, because he stalled for four whole years. Because he knew that there was always a chance that if the Council remembered about his existence — a knight in his prime, they could send him to fight, to partake in their mindless acts of violence and politics and — 

_ Oh, the peace was so hard to maintain sometimes, when only Jedi could stand for those who refused to stand for themselves _ . And yet, it revolted him, the fighting, the politics, the ambitions which the Temple has been filled with recently.  _ The whispers of the Chosen One _ — he had seen him, too, this boy. He shone so brightly it was hard to look at him and not look away. He hoped they would never come across each other again, because meeting Anakin Skywalker, even watching him from afar, made shivers run down Anik’s spine, as if he was staring at the Force itself. 

He almost pitied the boy’s Master, wondering how the poor thing felt, guiding the child of the Force through the Crystal Caves, so mercilessly outshined. Blown away by the raw power which radiated from this… no, Anik couldn’t call this  _ creature  _ a human.

But it wasn’t seeing the young Jedi Master and his Padawan what prompted him to go to the capital in the end. 

“There aren’t just politics on Coruscant, Master Vahaan,” Kit Fisto told him, as he climbed up the bank of one of the geyser pools inside the caves. “Perhaps the Force calls you there to meet the younglings. Maybe someone waits for you. Maybe someone wants to share your sanctuary here, on Ilum.”

It made a terrible sort of sense. 

“Anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to check. Fear leads to hatred, and hatred — well, you know the rest. The Council won’t make you do anything the Force doesn’t will you to do.”

Perhaps, he should have talked with somebody sooner, or, perhaps, it was just the right person at the right place and the right time? The Force’s will… was it really for him to go against it?

Coruscant didn’t change at all since his last visit. It was as busy as it has always been, with endless traffic and artificial lights. Anik disliked it, and tried to spend as little time as possible on the planet — made his way through it to the Temple, as if he was in a hurry. As if he truly wanted to be in the Temple; as if there was anybody he missed. 

But there wasn’t, there was no attachment. He… he couldn’t even recall his former Master’s face anymore; he remembered that the bond they shared was once strong and vivid, that the color of his Master’s Force was rich cyan, and that he felt warm, unlike the snows of Ilum. But once his training ended and his braid was cut off, so was their bond, and he forgot — what color were his Master’s eyes? His hair? Now that he walked through the corridors of the Temple, he couldn’t really put his finger on it. The lack of attachment made it impossible to hold on to a memory. But this… was right. That was the way of the Force. And he genuinely didn’t feel sorry for being a little bit forgetful. He always remembered those who were important, after all. 

Take Master Yoda, for example. He knew that he had to talk to him, if he wanted to see the younglings. Or the layout of the Temple: he knew how to find the ancient Jedi Master, where to look for him, whom to ask about his whereabouts. 

The Council chambers, that was where he was. 

“I want to take a Padawan learner,” he told the Council. Well, there were just three of the members there, but it was enough to make this decision. It wasn’t anything huge; it was about time he took a Padawan. A privilege, an honor and a sacred duty of any Jedi Master — oh, the Council was just  _ so glad _ to grant him this. 

_ Choose at will, young Vahaan _ , that was what they said, as if he was choosing a brand new toy, and not a living being to take care of. 

Not a responsibility, but a Sith-damn entertainment.  _ As if training somebody was nothing but —  _

He was filled with abhorrence for all what was happening, felt the Force beating inside his chest, like a caged animal, it’s amber color pulsating towards an almost crimson orange, and yet — nobody seemed to notice. Yoda took him to see the younglings, who were taking meditation classes in the Room of the Thousand Fountains. 

He followed silently, making sure that his mood didn’t spread towards others, making sure to shield, not to project, to stay still in the current — to stay silent. And there was a fake serene smile on his lips. 

Well.

He looked like a perfect Jedi, didn’t he?


	2. Keine Kiv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I finally wrote chapter 2!  
> Took me long enough.

From the very first moment he saw this man, he knew that the color of his lightsaber would be the one he had never seen before. Not the familiar blue, not the calming green, not even the mysterious purple — the one he had only seen one Jedi possess, no. It would be something different entirely. Something mesmerizing, unique in a way no description could ever fit perfectly. 

And it was. The intense vivid color of the Force swirled around this man as he walked behind Master Yoda through the Room of the Thousand Fountains. The color of the sunset. The color of amber, warm and welcoming. The color of the blood oranges Keine loved so much. The color... so iridescent that he couldn’t define whether it was yellow, orange or — ah, red, no, it could never be red. But this was surely... A color which never suited a Jedi — 

Yet, there was a smile on his face — a serene, peaceful one, of a true Jedi, and Keine thought that perhaps this man was the one who could — no, no. Never.

His fate was decided. He was thirteen already; today was the day his ship to Agricorps was departing; his things were packed since early in the morning. This... Keine welcomed this. 

The journey of the Jedi seemed to be too hard of a chore. And he liked plants, too. Helping them grow would be something he truly wanted to do. Terraforming was a noble cause. And he could distance himself from the ongoing war, from the violence and ambitions which were filling the Galaxy to the brim. 

So he tried to hide; shuffled behind his classmates, who eagerly went forward — everyone except him wanted to be chosen as a Padawan learner. It was… good. Very good. He felt nice that his destiny was simple — so uncomplicated and straightforward. Ah, simply… perfection. He leaned against a tree and shrouded himself in the Force, trying to hide his presence further — he didn’t know why, but he heard something, like a destiny trying to call to him. A song — a melody, hummed in a fading mauve color, and it pulled him towards this Jedi Master. Called him. Persuaded to come closer. 

Keine didn’t want to hear this call. Didn’t want to acknowledge it, so he hid — at least he tried to —

It didn’t work. Not at all. 

The Jedi Master looked straight at him, didn’t even notice all the other younglings crowding around him, it took him just one, two, three steps to reach him.

“You are coming with me, young one,” he said steadily, dreamily, as if… as if he wasn’t really here. As if he was half-submerged into the Force, half-meditating all the way through.

And it was them Keine really took a look at him.

He was… he looked strangely handsome. Alien. So pale, his markings — or maybe tattoos? — faded to almost nothing, mahogany curls were hiding small but sharp horns amidst them. His eyes were brown — warm, just like the sunsets Keine enjoyed so much. His robes were clean, with dark lower tunics and ivory tabards and obi. There were shards of kyber crystals braided in his hair, shards of kyber as a pendant on his neck. Shards of kyber as a bracelet on his wrist — shards of kyber everywhere on him. He looked  _ perfect.  _ There was nothing amiss. And yet there was something telling Keine  _ no. _ Telling him to run. 

The instinct long forgotten, which made his ears flatten and his tail beat erratically against his leg. Something insincere. Something… something… 

Some kind of danger he failed to recognise but knew that it was there. 

He didn’t want this man to become his Master. 

He looked at Master Yoda, hoping — 

Master Yoda looked away. 

“My name is Anik Vahaan. And I’m taking you as a Padawan learner.”

His fate was decided and he wasn’t really going to agricorps this evening. He took this man’s hand hesitantly. It was warm; and it was evident that Master Vahaan worked a lot with his hands — but didn’t wield a lightsaber often. The calluses were in all the wrong places. So he wasn’t taking him to the frontlines. Then… where?

Keine didn’t dare ask.

“We will be leaving Coruscant as soon as you pack your things. We have a lot to do.”

Master Vahaan looked a bit uneasy as he said it. Perhaps… could it be that he was lying? But where could be the lie in such a simple statement? And it was always true that the Jedi were always occupied. Keine worried silently — and yet he nodded, feeling Master Yoda’s gase on the two of them.

“My things are already packed. I just need to grab my bag. Will you allow me to say goodbye to my friends at the Temple? I won’t—” he was unable to finish, because his Master silenced him with a sharp look of disappointment. 

“No. If your things are already packed, there is no need to linger. Your friends will understand. They are future Jedi too, and they should know that developing attachments isn’t encouraged.”

His voice was soft. His words too — attachments were  _ forbidden  _ but Keine never thought that he was…  _ attached _ to his friends. He could easily let them go. But was attachment, perhaps, defined differently? Had he been mistaken? Was saying goodbye too much?

Perhaps… perhaps it was.

“As you wish, Master.” he muttered, eyes down, and then they went to the room he shared with the others. 

They took his things and that was it. 

They left Coruscant seemingly in a hurry. Nobody paid them any mind. 

The ship was small; a standart temple-issue one. And an old one. Master Vahaan showed him his room, before asking his name even — you will stay here, Padawan, here is a spare blanket, and here is another pillow if you ever need it. Now, stay here until we enter the hyperspace and please don’t get in my way — something like this. 

So Keine did as he was told. Sitting on the small bunk he swinged his legs and his tail, looking at how the light of his home planet disappeared below, replaced by the darkness of space. And the light of stars. 

He wondered whether it was like this for everyone. Whether all meetings with Masters went the same way. Whether this instinctive fear will ever pass. 

There was nothing to be afraid of. This man was a Jedi. And Jedi were good. And there was  _ nothing wrong. _

He closed his eyes and fell backwards on the bed. More than anything, he wanted to release those thoughts into the Force, but… for some unknown reason they clung to him. And he… he still heard this mauve-colored hum in the Force which called him — called him to the cockpit, where Master Vahaan — no, where  _ his Master  _ was.

He stayed still for a few more moments before jumping to his feet and going where the hum summoned him. 

The ship entered the hyperspace the moment he stepped into the cockpit. His Master spinned around in the pilot seat and gestured towards the other one. 

Keine sat down. 

“So. What’s your name?”

He thought he’d never ask. He was glad that he did. And this… this  _ acknowledgment  _ he felt prompted him to start speaking about things he felt — things he, perhaps, should have kept to himself for a little while longer. 

Because saying that they were bound by destiny was too much. Too arrogant to claim that they were meant to meet each other. That the Force brought them together. 

“My name is Keine Kiv. Master… I wanted to ask you. When I saw you, I heard something. Like… like a song. And it had color in the Force. Not  _ your  _ color… something… faded. Faded purple.”

At this, Anik Vahaan beamed a smile at him. A sincere one — a true one. The one that went from his lips straight to his eyes, the one which made his color in the Force shift to a golden yellow. 

“You did? That… that’s great, Padawan. This means that I made the right choice by coming to Coruscant,” he reached inside his tunics, and fished out something — on a little chain, there was a ring, with a shard of kyber in a silver cage, shaped like a holocron. “Keine, this is yours then. I found this crystal on Ilum — that’s where we’re heading, too — and it wanted me to find you. And I did.”

Keine took the chain and the ring on it — it was warm, carrying the warmth of his Master’s body still — and he could hear the happiness in the crystal’s hum. It was mauve in color. Did it mean…

“...will my lightsaber be that color?” Keine asked, curious and a bit shy. 

“I don’t know. That depends solely on you. Your Force is still undefined, Padawan. You have a long road ahead of you. And colors… those things might change. Don’t overthink it. It’s a crystal which wants to be yours — perhaps it will be important in your future. Perhaps not. It did its job of bringing us together, didn’t it?”

Keine nodded, and with his nod the conversation died. 

They sat in silence for hours — and Keine meditated, in hopes that this will help him find more peace. He still felt anxious about his life. And about his Master. 

He couldn’t really put a finger on what was wrong.

Maybe… maybe he really shouldn’t be overthinking this. They had a long journey ahead of them. Ilum was just so far away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keine has no idea how long they are going to stay on Ilum, haha poor boy.


	3. Anik Vahaan

They were finally heading home. Home — far away from the charted galaxy, far away from the busy traffic of Coruscant, far away from the conflicts which were threatening to bloom in the Republic. Anik was glad that his Padawan wasn’t too keen on staying in the Temple — that his things were packed and more than that — he felt ecstatic that Keine heard the crystals too. Even on Coruscant, where the Force was dim, where the songs were quiet, silenced by the buzz of everyday hustle. 

He knew — they were meant to be. He knew — Kit Fisto was right that the Force guided him to this boy for a reason. 

And yet, this happiness was an emotion too; something which he had to be mindful of; something he should recognize and understand. Meditate on it, if necessary. Emotions were dangerous — not that he was afraid (fear leads to anger, yes, yes, he remembered) — but he knew that happiness will, after a while, melt away. Just like ice on Ilum melts, leaving behind nothing. And emptiness had a tendency of eating one up from the inside. 

He was happy now. The reason? He achieved his goal — found the one he was looking for, the one whom he could teach his craft and who could share his ideals. There was logic behind this emotion — and with this understanding Anik could live on. 

In the days which came, he found that his Padawan was a shy little thing. He rarely started talking first, although his bright blue eyes always glowed with questions and infinite interest in everything that Anik did. 

Keine watched him, as he went through the katas — an unasked question lingering in the air. Keine didn’t have to ask it — not aloud anyway, for Anik knew what was on his mind. 

“I’m not igniting my lightsaber because there is no need for that.” he explained to his Padawan. They had no training bond, but this question bubbling on top of his thoughts was just too evident.

“Don’t you just want to feel it? Its glow, its warmth? I’ve heard other Masters called their lightsabers their lives, I thought this was important. Isn’t it to you, Master?” Keine swinged his tail nervously, and jumped down from the empty container he was sitting on. He came closer, as Anik stopped moving and stretched his hand forward — handing his lightsaber over to his Padawan.

“It is. But for me, it is more about the crystal inside and its song. The way it is perfectly in tune with the Force; not about the blade. Not about how I can cut almost anything in half with it. I detest mindless violence; and I don’t like politics the Jedi Council engages in nowadays. If I had a say in that, the Jedi wouldn’t be a part of any political system...”

He watched Keine carefully take the weapon from his hand and gently trace the leather handle with his fingertips. 

“...but I don’t. So I do what’s in my power to remain as close to my own Jedi ideals as possible.”

“That’s admirable. I… don’t think the war is the right place for the Jedi to be either. And I’ve been wondering about why they teach us battling. Why do they think it is so important? That… doesn’t really make sense to me, Master.” Keine fiddled with the lightsaber a bit, looked at it, as if it was a marvel of engineering, and Anik couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“You should be able to defend yourself. The galaxy isn’t a safe place for Force-sensitive individuals like you and me, whether we thrive in peace or not. The fact that I don’t draw my weapon often doesn’t mean I will be shy to use it, shall the time come.”

Keine nodded, and gave his lightsaber back. 

“Do you want to see its color? Was that why you were looking so intently?” Anik asked softly. “It’s orange. Like any other kyber crystals in my jewelry.” 

As if to prove his words, he ignited the blade — it wasn’t what he would have done were it not for his Padawan’s interest, but… he guessed that he could entertain the young boy’s curiosity. 

The orange light reflected from the durasteel walls, filled it with a warm glow and Anik heard his Padawan's soft gasp, felt how he went completely silent afterwards — in awe of the color he had probably never seen before. 

Keine stared, mesmerized, at the orange blade, and Anik smiled. The boy was… nice. He was small, of species Anik didn’t recognize. Light purple skin, white hair, large ears, almost fin-like, but that’s probably a wrong guess — judging by his overall appearance, Keine’s species came from a desert, not an ocean. And he had a tail — a long one, with a tassel of white fur at the end. His bright blue eyes revealed a gentle, curious soul, someone who wasn’t as arrogant as other younglings Anik had met at the Temple, someone who seemed to share his views on the natural order of things — despised violence and bloodshed. 

“May I braid your hair?” Anik asked, as he flipped the switch on his lightsaber once more and the orange light went off — as if it was never there. 

He saw the light in his Padawan’s eyes instead. Something much brighter, than the orange of a lightsaber — something true; and it lasted for a the longest moments before Keine finally gave a shy nod and allowed him to —

Yes, put a symbol of his apprenticeship on him. Because a braid was exactly that: a symbol. 

They spent the next several days of their trip to Ilum getting to know each other. They meditated together, and Anik tried to build trust they needed to have in order for their stay on the Force-blessed planet safely. And he thought that he had it. His Padawan was slowly beginning to see more in him than just a random Jedi Knight. And it was… exactly how it should have been. 

Anik couldn’t have been happier, truly, and although he tried to meditate this happiness away, Keine’s presence was like a bright light in an otherwise dark surroundings. He couldn’t ignore it. Not at all. 

Anik didn’t anticipate any complications when they dropped out of hyperspace and saw the beauty of the icy planet. He was glad that their trip was over and he could be where he belongs — and he longed to show his Padawan the beauty of snowy wastes of Ilum, too. He knew that it probably isn’t the time to lead his young apprentice inside the Crystal Caves just yet; it was too dangerous, for their bond was still an undeveloped fragile thing, and he wouldn’t have the opportunity to guide his apprentice through the maze of sparkly ice. But he surely could name at least five different sites where he wanted to take Keine. Especially the one high up in the mountains, where he had recently found a deposit of kyber. The one, which wanted to take on the green color — the one of the scholars and those who shared a stronger connection with the Living Force. 

He couldn’t wait to show Keine all types of crystals and teach him everything he knew about them himself. He really —

— couldn’t imagine that anything could really go wrong. 

And yet, as he stared through the transparisteel viewport, he could feel his Padawan’s silent worry and unease. 

He turned to see what was wrong, and found nothing out of the ordinary. 

“You okay there?” he asked, no concern in his voice. He figured that Keine was just a bit anxious about visiting a new place. That happened. Really, he _was_ anxious on his first visit too. 

And Keine nodded, as if to confirm his thoughts. 

Yet, when they landed, Anik understood that they _did_ have a problem — at least it seemed like they did. By the way his Padawan was keeping his hands over his ears, he figured that those were the songs of crystals that the boy was trying not to hear. Ah, he really forgot how it was on his first visit, didn’t he? 

“What you hear isn’t a  _ real  _ sound,” Anik said softly. “It’s the Force. You have to concentrate on the reality around you, and it will fade.” 

“I can’t,” Keine whined in reply. “It’s too loud!”

“You should keep trying until you _can_. It’s not hard, once you get the hang of it.”

It took Keine some time to manage it. Too long — that was what Anik thought, but he made no attempts to rush things. He knew that were he in Keine’s place, he wouldn’t appreciate it if his Master was impatient. 

And they weren’t really in a hurry. They were already home, so… Anik just allowed Keine to take his time.

“I will be waiting for you outside,” he said calmly, and left. When he settled on the snow just outside the ship, he could still hear his Padawan’s whimpers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anik Vahaan, Master of being an asshole.


End file.
